When I Was Theirs

23. Emmy

23

Emmy

“ W hat’s this?”

Ben’s rasping words make me jerk to full wakefulness. Straightening in the chair beside his bed, I follow his hazy eyes to the wall on our left. Maps and glossy brochure photos cover it, courtesy of the library and the travel agency. The final rays of the afternoon sunlight pour through the open doors, casting the space around us in shades of gold.

“You always wanted to travel,” I say quietly. “So I brought the world in here. Or…. I tried to.”

Ben blinks slowly as he turns to me. It hurts to look at him, at his hollow cheeks and mottled complexion.

But the corners of his lips hitch up, his words slow but steady. “Where are we going, Emmy Marsters?”

Swallowing, I reach for the book at my feet, flipping it open. “I thought we’d start with Brazil.”

“Brazil,” he whispers. A wet, mucus cough rattles his body as he turns his head to the side, and I reach for the water next to the bed. But Ben shakes his head in refusal, lifting his hand just enough for me to know he wants me to take it. “Let’s go, Em. You and… and me.”

His fingers are cold. But his forehead is hot when I reach for it.

I keep his hand in mine as I flick through the pages.

Jared is coming.

The words hover on my tongue, but I swallow them back as I focus on the pages and begin to read.

Just in case.

Several hours pass, Ben slipping in and out of sleep as I continue reading until my voice turns hoarse.

And there’s still no knock on the door.

Ben is dozing when I finally close the book, standing and heading to the front door. I pull it open, just in case, but there’s nobody outside. I step out into the hallway to make sure.

“Waiting for someone?”

Biting my lip, I turn. He’s watching me, his fingers plucking at the bed covers.

“Yeah,” I say finally, closing the door. I move back to my seat, take his hand in mine again. “Maybe.”

I don’t say anything else, waiting for him to ask.

But he doesn’t.

When he’s sleeping again, I make myself a coffee before pacing the small apartment. Ben’s legs twitch beneath his bedding, as if he can pick up on my own restlessness. I run a brush through my hair, clean my teeth again. Run my hands down my dress, chewing on the inside of my cheek as I stare at my pale face and chapped lips in the mirror.

At my scar.

In every imagined scenario I might have had of meeting my boyfriend’s family for the first time, there was never a scenario where it looked like this .

I find myself back on the stairs, waiting.

It’s close to midnight when the downstairs entrance door screeches as somebody pushes it open. I’m half-asleep, my head banging against the railing I’ve been leaning against as I bolt upright.

The footsteps sound heavy. They pound against the steps, taking several at a time by the number of noises before they just… stop.

Swallowing, I get to my feet and brush myself off.

The footsteps pick up again, slower this time.

Until he rounds the corner, and I face Ben’s brother for the first time.

Jared looks nothing like him at first glance. His obsidian hair is disheveled, haphazard curls, shaved on either side to keep it in check. Dark stubble covers the lower half of his face, and he runs his hand over it as his eyes land on me.

He stops, staring up at me in the flickering light overhead. “Emilia?”

His eyes travel over me, assessing, before he continues up the steps, pausing two steps below me and putting us at eye level.

Say something.

Now that he’s closer, I can see more similarities. In the way the curls on top of his head sit, riotous and wild. And in his eyes.

My heart squeezes and twists.

They have the same eyes.

Deep, deep brown. But as I look, I see a deep ring of amber surrounding Jared’s pupils that Ben doesn’t have. But the shape, the rest of the color – they’re almost identical, except for that ring.

And the ice that fills them. He doesn’t smile. I see none of Ben’s warmth in his expression.

They have similar cheekbones, though. Jared has paler skin, compared to Ben’s golden tones. A little taller, but equally broad. The way that Ben was when I met him. Jared clearly favors band t-shirts too, but he’s wearing a red flannel shirt, pushed up to his elbows over the top of his faded black tee.

Jared studies me just as closely. His familiar eyes travel over me without apology. My cheeks heat at the blatant assessment.

And as his lips press together, I realize that I held some small hope that Jared might be an ally. A friend, even. Someone to share the pain that has taken up residence inside my heart.

But his voice is cold. Disapproving, even, shredding that notion of friendship into pieces and sending them fluttering through the space between us. He shifts, gripping a green canvas tote bag in one hand and a battered guitar case in the other. “Where’s my brother?”

I shrink back at the cold in his tone. “He’s—,”

“Emmy!”

The cry has both Jared and I whirling.

Jared follows, barely half a step behind me as I dart up the stairs and through the door. Ben is thrashing, his skin soaked with sweat. “Emmy!”

“I’m here.” He stops jerking as I reach him, my hands cupping his cheeks. “I’m here, Ben. It’s alright.”

My breathing is fast and uneven, as if I’ve been running. Ben opens his eyes, fixing them on me. “You left.”

“No,” I reassure him, trying to keep my voice steady as I reach for the bowl Nicole left on the table for me to use. Squeezing out the excess water from the sponge, I wipe the sweat away from his forehead. “I was just outside.”

“Did you go to work?”

Slowly, I shake my head. I don’t look at the maps covering the walls, the discarded book on the floor beside me as I stroke his hair back, out of his face. “Not today.”

Today, we went to Brazil. But you don’t remember.

I can feel him behind me. Watching me.

Judging me.

My shoulders straighten as I glance over my shoulder and our eyes meet.

His gaze is still ice-cold. Instinctively, I shift, my shoulders squaring as I curve myself over Ben.

Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare bring that in here and aim it at him.

Jared’s jaw tightens as he looks away, down to his brother. And I hold my breath.

But his face softens. It transforms him into something intrinsically, heartbreakingly human as he looks at his brother.

“Benny?”

My lungs release the oxygen they held hostage at the quiet emotion in Jared’s voice.

The ice was just for me, then.

I can deal with that.

I turn back just in time to catch the small furrow that appears in Ben’s forehead. His eyes flicker, the haze of sleep clearing as he searches my face. “Who…?”

He can’t see Jared from his position, my body blocking him.

Swallowing, I offer him a small smile. “Jared is here, Ben.”

The haze washes away, replaced by an almost childish uncertainty that makes the back of my throat ache. He stares at me. “Jared?”

Not yet , he’d said.

Not yet.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, my smile wobbling as I lower my voice. “Is this… is this the right time?”

Ben knows what I’m asking, as we stare at each other. He closes his eyes, and I brush away the tear that escapes. “Yeah, baby. This is… this is the right time.”

My throat tightens, the air cutting off.

“Okay.” Breathe, Emmy . “I’ll give you some space to – to catch up.”

“Don’t—,”

“I’ll be outside,” I whisper. My voice cracks as I force a smile onto my face. “Just call, and I’ll be right here, okay?”

He nods.

Let me go.

Let me—

I’m backing away then, past Jared and his cold eyes. He doesn’t look at me, and I don’t look at him.

Through the door.

The landing is too close.

The stairs are too close.

I make it to the very bottom before I sink down onto the steps and bury my face in my hands.

This is the right time.